Harry Potter: Days Mixed in Hogwarts

November 1981, Hampshire, England.

On the bustling city streets, vendors eagerly watched every passerby, especially those coming out of the nearby cinema. Buying some cream puffs or small snacks on the way home, or picking up a little trinket like a hair tie for the kids, was completely normal.

Near the end of the street, the Morgan family of three was still savoring the joy of a perfect day.

"What a perfect day, Mrs. Morgan. Perhaps I could invite you to spend next weekend with me as well?"

The man on the left, holding their child, appeared to be in his twenties, handsome, with an uncontrollable smile lingering at the corner of his mouth as he spoke.

"Hmm, Mr. Morgan, that sounds like a nice idea. But I'll have to think about it."

The beautiful woman beside him stuffed the last cream puff into her mouth, then linked both arms around his, sneaking a few quick wipes on his sleeve when he wasn't looking.

Their eyes met—then they both burst into laughter.

Loren, lying in his father's arms, was speechless. Over the past year in this world, he had seen this exact scene replay countless times—it was so disgustingly sweet it was almost unbearable.

He sucked on a milk caramel, let out a small hum, then shifted to a more comfortable position to go back to sleep. Even though he had the soul of an adult, his body was still that of a one-year-old child.

But the peaceful moment didn't last long.

"Peter! You'll pay for this!"

A furious roar erupted from behind the couple, shaking the air and piercing their ears with sheer rage.

A short, chubby figure in a gray suit suddenly bolted past them, dashing into a street corner and vanishing.

Turning around, they saw a tall, thin man with wild hair and a scruffy beard. His bloodshot eyes were locked ahead, and in his hand was a thin, wooden stick.

The terrifying shout had come from him.

The young couple exchanged nervous glances before instinctively stepping back.

Loren suddenly felt a deep sense of unease and fear. A cold shiver crawled from the back of his neck to his scalp, and his heartbeat quickened—so much that he could hear it pounding in his ears.

"Run!"

He gurgled a warning, but it was too late.

Boom!

A massive explosion erupted from the street corner, shattering nearby buildings. Debris and rubble flew in all directions. Even the ground cracked open, revealing the sewers beneath—the impact felt like an earthquake.

In that split second, little Loren only saw one thing—

His father shielding him and his mother, while his mother curled around him, her sky-blue dress blocking his view.

Suddenly, his eyes glowed blue, the color expanding from his pupils and overtaking the black of his irises.

Sirius Black glanced sideways, surprised to see such a young child experiencing a magic surge.

But none of that mattered now.

Damn that Peter Pettigrew…

Something warm and sticky seeped into Loren's clothes.

Then he blacked out.

"This is brutal, Crouch. That damn Death Eater nearly wiped out an entire street! Twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew—gone. All that was left of him was a single finger."

Standing at the disaster site, Cornelius Fudge, dressed in a fine striped suit, spoke with lingering fear in his eyes.

When he arrived, Sirius Black was standing there, laughing maniacally, surrounded by the burning ruins.

Beside him stood Barty Crouch Sr.

Yesterday, something monumental had happened.

They had been awake all night.

And yet, Crouch still looked pristine, his tie perfectly straight, his hair neatly combed.

These damn Death Eaters need to rot in Azkaban.

A Dementor's Kiss would be too good for them.

He silently swore to himself.

"Follow the Statute of Secrecy—modify the Muggles' memories, arrange compensation for the victims."

Crouch calmly issued commands, one after another.

The surrounding Aurors followed orders efficiently.

With Voldemort gone, everything would be okay…

That's what they all believed.

June 1985, Sir Hillier's Children's Orphanage, Hampshire.

Five-year-old Loren Morgan was helping Sister Joyce sort through donated clothes.

In the orphanage, older children helped with small chores, knowing that well-behaved kids had a better chance of being adopted.

"Sister Joyce, when is Mr. Bumble coming back?"

Loren missed Mr. Bumble, the orphanage's former cafeteria manager, who often gave him extra food. Since he left, Loren had been feeling lightheaded from time to time. He suspected it was due to malnutrition and anemia.

Upon hearing that name, Sister Joyce froze for a moment before softly reassuring him:

"Mr. Bumble has gone far away. He won't be returning to the orphanage."

Loren sighed in disappointment—he had just lost his free food source.

"Does that mean we won't have potatoes for dinner anymore?"

He was sick of potatoes.

"Hmm… maybe we can try cooking them a different way. Any suggestions?"

Sister Joyce knew that money was tight—most funds went to coal and warm clothes for the winter.

Loren frowned but didn't answer.

Watching his serious, adult-like expression, Joyce smiled.

"The church and the government are here today," she added. "They're speaking with Ms. Maggie. Maybe they're bringing new food for us!"

Or maybe, she thought to herself, they're here because of what happened last month.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Joyce, bring Loren. There's good news!"

The voice outside carried excitement.

Hearing "good news" in an orphanage was rare.

Bringing a child to hear it?

That was even rarer.

Joyce had a sudden hunch.

She grabbed Loren's hand and rushed out.

"Ms. Maggie, what's the news?"

Maggie, the orphanage director, was a strong-willed woman in her forties, still quick on her feet.

In the guest room, two men stood to greet them.

One wore a white cleric's robe, the other a black, single-breasted coat.

Maggie introduced them:

"This is Deacon Thorn from the church and Mr. Pino from the city council."

Before Joyce could greet them, Pino spoke first.

"We don't have much time, so I'll get straight to the point. While reviewing citizenship records, we discovered that Loren Morgan's mother had a surviving brother.

"We contacted him, and he has agreed to take Loren in."

Thorn added, "We'll handle the paperwork immediately. Loren will leave with us tomorrow morning."

Joyce hugged Loren tightly, overjoyed.

"Thank God! This poor child finally has a family!"

Loren was caught off guard.

Ever since he woke up in this world, he had only known this orphanage.

He was told that his parents had died in a car accident.

Somehow… he always felt like that wasn't true.

But he couldn't remember anything from before the orphanage.

Now, he was leaving.

And for the first time in years, he was afraid.

The next morning, outside the orphanage.

Joyce stood by the car, looking at Loren in the back seat, eyes filled with reluctance.

She kissed his forehead.

"Come back and visit when you're older, Loren."

Loren's face felt warm.

He nodded.

"Let's go, kid!"

Pino, in the front seat, sounded excited.

The light-blue Ford Anglia accelerated down the road.

Watching the car disappear, Joyce whispered:

"Is he really going to his real family?"

Maggie sighed.

"I don't know, Joyce. This was decided from above. But Loren will be well taken care of.

"As for Bumble… he's going to hell."